


Summer

by Gravity_Sun



Series: Lazarus [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dick is Also a Dork, Drinking, Drugs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Frottage, Humor, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason is a Dork, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Original Character(s), Oral Sex, Slice of Life, Social Media, Texting, jason is oblivious, the thirst - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6697780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gravity_Sun/pseuds/Gravity_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I met you in the summer, to my heartbeat sound...</p><p>Or “How to get covered in cocaine, do inappropriate things to a rubber ducky, expose yourself to a nun, fall through a roof and become a social media star all while falling in love with your emotionally constipated brother".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the "Lazarus" series. It's possible to understand without reading Lazarus first, but it makes much more sense if you do.

Jason is 20, and there’s a pounding in his head.

No. Not his head. His head is fine. His door. There is pounding on his fucking door. Someone is bamming on his door at fuck-off-o’clock in the morning. He starts to sit up, but realizes two things:

  1. He’s in his safe house so

  2. The only type of people who would be knocking are the type who wouldn’t actually need him to open the door to gain entry, which means it’s either the Bat Brats or someone trying to kill him. And if it was someone trying to kill him, they probably wouldn’t have done the courtesy of knocking.




So Jay shuts his eyes, and cuddles back up under the covers, and waits.

Sure enough, the knocking stops and the eventual lockpick sounds filter through and the door to his warehouse-safehouse-loft slide open, and he hears footsteps. Too heavy to be the Lil Shit’s or Replacements. Too light to be Bruce. Graceful.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, now taking notice of his morning erection.

_‘Not now, Lil Buddy’._

Dickie.

“Jaybird?” Dick asks, coming up the stairs. Jay doesn’t answer because he knows damn well that Dick knows he’s home and that by him not answering that obviously means he doesn’t want company. He’s crossing his toes and hoping Dick takes the hint (and Lil Todd calms down) when Dick comes up the stairs to his lofted area, standing next to his bed.

“Jaybird?” Dick asks, voice lowering to something almost resembling an inside voice “Jay? You sleep?”

Jan groans.

“Not any more, you goddamn nuisance.” He mutters, still under the covers “What?”

Dick walks forward, seemingly taking Jay’s acknowledgement of his presence as encouragement and sits on the edge of the bed.

“What are you--?”

“I just came to check on you,” Dick says, lifting what Jay not realizes is a bag of medical supplies and beer.

Jay shifts, reaching for the beer, before Dick pulls the bag back.

“You look hungover.” He gestures towards the empty bottles and cans littered around the bed.

“I am.”

“You want _more_?”

Jay shrugs as best he can manage.

“Hair of the dog.”

Dick rolls his eyes.

“Maybe later, Little Wing.” He says, pulling the covers off of Jay in one swift move “First, let me get you banda--.” His voice trails off “...Huh.”

“What?”

“Could’ve sworn you were burned worse than this.”

So could Jay.

“Guess not.”

“There was a hole burned into your costume.”

“Give me back my covers.”

Dick looks between Jay and the covers, before bundling them up, grabbing the beer and walking to what serves as his living room, plopping down on the couch unceremoniously before relaxing, cracking open a beer, and putting his feet up on the table.

Jason contemplates ignoring him, just rolling over and going back to sleep, but the loft is cool in the morning air, and Jay’s not wearing anything other than boxer briefs.

He frowns, pulling himself up to his elbows, a mess of flushed skin and frumpy hair and attempts to shoot Dick the angriest glare he can manage, only to stop short when he looks at Dick, and finds him subtly tongue fucking the bottle.

Jay’s mouth dries and his cock twitches. He’s sure Dick isn’t doing it on purpose, just really enjoying the beer (despite it being garbage, in Jay’s opinion) but that didn’t matter and Jay knew he’d be jerking it to the sight for weeks to come.

Jay takes a couple of deep boner killing breaths before sliding out of bed. He contemplates putting on a shirt, but decides against it, hoping Dick will be motivated to give him his blankets back instead.

Jason plops gracelessly on the couch and Dick hands him a beer. Jay grimaces at it, before twisting it open and taking a long pull.

“Shouldn’t you be back in ‘Haven by now?”

“Nah.” Dick says

“Nah?”

“Nah.” Dick repeats, finishing off his beer and opening another one “It’s summer. Bruce wants help rounding up all of Gotham’s finest.”

“Isn’t that what he’s got the demon spawn and replacement for?”

“Tim is busy with the Titans and Damian is...” Dick trails off “Damian.”

Jay gives a weak shrug.

“So you’ll be staying back at the manor, then?”

“As much as I enjoy Alfred ironing my underwear, no.” Dick shrugs “If I’m going to stay local to help, I’m gonna need some time out from under Bruce’s thumb.”

And Jay gets that, he really does. He sighs, relaxing further into the couch, stilling when his shoulder brushes Dick’s. Swallowing thickly when Dick doesn’t move, and very, very slowly leans in closer.

A few breaths pass between them.

“So, Littlewing. I thought--.”

He is interrupted by a loud chirping from Dick’s pocket. He knows the sound. It was a Bat alert. He tenses for half a second, wondering if his would sound off, but figures if Bruce were to call him, it’d be for some end of the world shit.

Dick digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone, standing and moving a few paces away.

“Yeah?” Pause “Right _now_? It’s nothing something he could-- Okay but it-- Fine. I’m on my way.”

Dick runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, turning to Jay opening his mouth to explain. Jay holds a hand up to stop him.

“I got it. Go.”

Dick begins to move past him, down the stairs, but stops for a moment, looking at him, struggling to find words.

“Jay... I uh...”

“I’ll see you around, Dickie.” Jay says, simply

“Yeah.” Dick agrees “Yeah, of course.” He turns and begins making his way down the stairs

“Next time, I’ll show you what a real beer actually tastes like.” Jay calls after him.

“Yeah yeah yeah.” Dick shouts back, and Jay hears the safe house door slide open, then shut.

 

X

 

The next time the meet at a bar, but if pressed neither would admit that the invited the other. The music is a bit loud for Jay’s taste, but the booze is cheap and varied, so he deals.

Dick blends right in though, fitted black jeans and white v-neck that clung to him in a way that had Jay subtly reaching under the table to adjust himself.

The collar was just low enough where he could make out a bruise on Dick’s collarbone. He stares at it, already loose from a few drinks, and marks the places where he’d like to bite, surprised when he finds a mark already there.

“She get over-eager on you?”

Dick turns to him.

“She?”

Jay gestures towards Dick’s collarbone.

“The girl who gave you that big ass bite mark on your neck.”

Dick’s hand subconsciously flies up to his neck to the mark.

“Ah... yeah... the girl” He trails off

“Unsuccessful date?” Jason asks, more invested than he’d care to admit.

“Something like that.” Dick says, taking a sip of his beer (a not shitty one that Jay picked out for him).

Jason studies him for a long moment, before speaking.

“So. What is all this?” He asks

Dick takes another sip.

“Hn?”

“This.” Jason gestures between the two of them “Us. Sitting here. Not trying to kill each other.”

Dick laughs an easy chuckle and Jason relaxes a bit more.

“What? I can’t visit my baby brother?”

Jason deadpans.

“Maybe I just want to spend time with you Jay.”

Jason feels butterflies in his stomach and clamps down.

_‘He just means as a bro, Jay. Don’t be ridiculous.’_

“I figure, if I’m in Gotham...” Dick trails off “I’m gonna spend time with you.”

“And the rest of the baby Bats, huh?”

Dick blinks at him, seemingly confused for a moment.

“Doing the ‘Big Brother’ thing?”

“Oh.” Dick says “Yeah. Doing that.”

X

 

This is wrong. He _knows_ this is wrong. But the sheets still stick to him two shades too tight and his breath comes in hot pants as he can still feel remnants of a dream on his skin, salty and sweet.

‘ _No.’_ He refuses to give in _‘No.’_ He repeats, and tears himself from the bed and ignores the _ache_ between his thighs. Pushes it down and out, buries it like the Bat once taught him to.

Slap on the armor and the mask. Become someone different. Become a vigilante, a demon. Hide it behind the mask and soon there’ll be nothing. Nothing.

The rain pours down on his skin and he prowls through already patrolled streets. The heat is stifling. Summer is coming, and with it, growing _need_.

The men he finds don’t stand a chance. One is quick, but not quick enough and he turns a wrist until he feels something **break**. Revels in the scream, toying with him, denying him the sweet relief of unconsciousness.

The next punch lands on another he feels a clavicle shater. Watches the man in front of him crumple. He doesn’t even bother to call it in, leaving a few more marks, more hurt, more damage, before he is airborne, gliding across rooftops.

The rain is hot and he’s drowning because the thoughts won’t stop. Because when he closes his eyes there’s blue blue staring at him in disappointment.

‘ _Really, Jay? They were just muggers.’_

The rain beats down on his back and he can no longer deny it. No longer push past the heat and need, standing in the rain, praying for a baptism.

 

He doesn’t bother with the light, doesn’t need it. The armor comes off easily enough. Underwear, already slightly damp in patches, pooling at his feet.

He doesn’t make it to the bed, stands at his desk and strokes himself with a grip too tight, so tight it makes his toes _curl_. He envisions soft dark hair and olive skin, blue eyes the color of the ocean in Barbados. Those lips, he bets they’d be soft like a girl’s. Probably tinged with whatever fruity lip balm he used.

Cherry. Yeah. Cherry seems like a good flavor. He licks his lips, dry from the panting, pretending he can taste him. Imagining those lips stretched around him, the throat opening for him, the heated look in his eyes.

Jay knees threaten to buckle, so he braces himself against the chair and strokes even faster. He bets Dick would be great at giving head. Not from practice, just some sort of natural ingrained talent. Just like every fucking thing else.

In his head, his lover is _right here_. On his knees, hands gripping his ass hard enough to bruise. Jay pulls himself faster, squeezing at the tip, body tensing so tight one might think he’d break, but it’s not enough. **Not** enough.

The sheets are thankfully cool this time when he tumbles into them, cock as hard as marble, slick and hot, in his hands.

He wonders what he would sound like, sucking his fingers into his mouth. Is he a moaner? Or is he silent? No. Definitely a moaner. Loud and breathy moans, groans that cause your whole _soul_ to shudder. He lifts a leg, slides his fingers between his thighs, and works one, then two, inside.

It’s slow going. It’s been a long time since he’s let anyone take him, but for Dick he’d make an exception in a heartbeat. He shudders out a breath, chokes on a moan he swallows on instinct, not out of necessity when he finds his prostate and presses **hard**.

His toes curl. He wonders how big he is. How much of a stretch it would be. Strokes himself to the thought of being flipped over and fucked until he can’t walk straight.

His belly is pooling with warmth, heart pounding so loud they could probably hear it in the street. He bets Dick’s the type to cuddle afterwards. To press kisses to damp skin, murmur apologizes into bruises. To treat him like porcelain, like he’s a valuable thing. To slide along his body, kiss his lips, meet his eyes

‘ _I love you, Jay.’_

He comes with a shout, spilling over his belly and chest, body shuddering, pressing against his prostate so he stays higher, longer.

He finally comes down and the mess on his skin starts to cool. The rain beats against the windows. Thunder claps outside.

“I’m such a fucking mess.” He says

 

X

 

The distress call doesn’t surprise him. The fact that it’s Dick surprises him even less. The warehouse on the docks in the deep hours of the night is pretty much what he expected.

The cocaine though.

The cocaine surprises him.

Because Dick is absolutely _covered_ in it. Like a Christmas snow. Jay freezes for a moment, gawking at the scene. A dozen or so gangsters knocked out, and Nightwing standing still as a statue, the emergency beacon in his gauntlet beeping steadily.

Jason is thankful for the rebreather in his helmet, because he’s sure there’s probably a dust cloud of coke in the air, and takes a cautious step towards Dick.

“Nightwing.” He tries

Dick twitches, but doesn’t respond.

Jason spouts a handkerchief in the pocket of one of the thugs, mobsters by the look of it, and grabs it, moving towards Dick.

“Wing, you with me?”

He can hear Dick’s breathing increasing. Not good. Definitely not good. The last thing Dick needed was to breathe more of it in. Jason approaches Dick, grabbing him gently, intending to at least got the coke off his face.

“I’m just gonna clean you off. Dick. Try not to inhale too much.”

Jay wipes at Dick’s face and neck, clearing as much as he can as quickly as he can. This seems to knock Dick out of his shock.

“Jay.” He says, Jason can feel his body tremble under his fingers, practically vibrating. He knows he should correct Dick, remind him ‘No personal names when we’re in uniform’. But right now, that’s fairly unimportant.

“I got you, Nightwing.” He says, getting as much coke off as he can manage “We gotta move.”

Dick is shaking more violently now, trembling. Jay can’t see them, but he knows behind the lenses of his mask, Dick’s pupils are blown. He runs his mind through the symptoms of cocaine OD.

_‘Okay, respiratory issues, tachycardia, seizures and hyperthermia.’_

Dick is burning up, sweat now beading at his forehead. He is stammering, clearly trying to talk but the words aren’t coming out. He has to cool Dick down, fast. Get the remaining drugs off before he breathes in more, or they hit his skin through the small cuts in his suit (looks like he tasseled someone with a butterfly knife). He remembers they’re on the docks, grabs Dick in a fireman's carry and runs straight out of the warehouse and jumps off the pier into the water. The thugs could be dealt with later, Dick had laid down a beating. They weren’t going anywhere. It was still, early summer / late spring and the bay was cool enough. Dick thrashes against him, kicking away and towards the surface. Jay follows.

“Dick.” He shouts, grabbing Dick around the chest and swimming the few meters back to shore. Dick fights him but Jason knows it’s not intentional “Dick. It’s coke. Calm down.”

Dick looks at him, thankfully no longer covered in drugs.

“Jay... you... I can’t... you have to.”

And that’s all he manages before he convulses.

“Fuck.” He needs benzos and he needs them quick.

He weighs the risk of taking Dick to the hospital, having to figure out how to explain him showing up naked, or how to keep the mask on before he ultimately decides that his safe house is a better call. He holds Dick’s head as best he can to keep him from hitting it until the seizure stops. Scooping Dick up one more time he runs back to the warehouse, boosting one of the cars outside of it.

The drive was mostly a blur, Dick slipping in and out of consciousness, waking enough to tell him his chest hurts, and he’s having one more seizure before he blacks out and goes eerily still. The drive only takes a few minutes (and a few minutes more to get to the safe house / apartment from the alley several blocks away where he abandoned the car) but to Jay it feels like hours. He should call Oracle. Could call _Bruce_ , but doesn’t.

The apartment isn’t much. It was one that he’d mostly abandoned, only a modest stash cash remained, along with a mattress and a few spatterings of furniture. But, most importantly what it did have was a full medical station. Not as complete as the one in the Cave by any means, but enough to do what he needs. He grabs a syringe of Ativan, holds Dick through seizure number three, and then injects him.

Dick’s breathing and heart rate calm down a few minutes later and Jay beings the careful process of disarming the suit so he can get it off. He strips Dick down to his boxer briefs and then comes the mask. The air is on full blast and he’s placing ice packs around him to keep his temp down.

“You’re gonna be alright, Dickie. I’ve got you.”

Dick mumbles something incoherent and Jay isn’t sure if it was directed at him or whatever trip he was having.

He makes the call to Oracle about the warehouse thugs, assures her Dick is fine in what he hopes is a convincing voice. She sounds skeptical, and demands hourly updates, but otherwise, lets him go.

On the bed, Dick mutters something, trembling. Jay sits next to him, brushing the hair out of his eyes, shushing him, soothing as best he could. When Dick settles more, he gets an IV drip in him, and waits.

This is going to be a long night.

X

 

Of course, because in Jason Todd world, nothing ever goes smoothly he wakes (when did he fall asleep?) with Dick’s still too warm body pressed against him, erection digging into his side.

At first, he thinks Dick is still asleep, after all, he did give him more Ativan, which could keep him under for a few hours, but then he feels Dick’s hips _roll_ and hot lips and teeth on his neck.

Jay yelps (though he’d argue it was a far more distinguished sound) and starts to move away, only to find Dick has an iron grip on him.

“Dick.” Jay says “What are you doing?”

Dick mutters something that sounds like his name, and presses closer to him, sliding a hand under Jay’s shirt. It’s only been a few hours, there’s no way the coke wore off that quickly, which meant that Dick wasn’t in control of his actions. Probably was barely conscious, unaware of what he was doing. Dick’s teeth his a particularly sensitive spot and Jay jerks, hard enough to get Dick to loosen his grip and Jay to squirm away from him.

“Dick.” Jay tries Dick rolls back, on his back and mumbles something, Jay takes his temp, hot, but not as concerning as earlier, and gives him another bag of IV fluids, all while sternly ignoring his over eager erection.

_‘No Lil Todd. We will not beat off with Dick here.’_

Jay packs more ice packs around Dick, who moans a bit at the sensation, and soon drops unconscious again.

 

It’s early afternoon by his estimation, the first time that Dick shows some sign of being alert.

Jay is shoving another power bar in his mouth - not the best option but it’s slim pickings in the safe house and he’s not certain it’s okay to leave Dick tweaking out by himself. When Dick’s eyes flutter open and he groans.

“Wha--.” he tries to get out

Jay abandons the rest of the bar and grabs a water bottle, heading to sit next to Dick.

“Jay? What--.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a truck. And then ran 40 miles.”

“Well, yeah. A coke OD and a few seizures’ll do that do you.”

“... A few.”

Jason nods.

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

Dick shrugs.

“I got sloppy.”

“And got covered in cocaine, like some Scarface - snowman?”

Dick shrugs again, moving to sit up and clearly struggling with the effort. He blinks a bit and looks around.

“I think it’s still my system.”

“Probably.”

Jason hands Dick the water bottle, and watches him drain it all in one go.

“Any reason why you called me?”

“I was covered in cocaine.”

“--Instead of the rest of the baby Bats?”

Dick pauses for a moment before speaking.

“Didn’t really wanna sit through Bruce’s disappointed lecture.”

And Jason, the family let down, get’s that. He really does.

“Yeah yeah. Just don’t make a habit of it, Big Bird.”

Dick grumbles something and flops on his back.

“Maybe.” He says, voice fading “Maybe I just wanna spend time with you, Jaybird.”

Jason swallows a lump in his throat.

“You sound like a schoolgirl with a crush.” He forces out, more bravado than he feels

Dick is breathing evenly. Jason is sure he’s fallen asleep, when he hears a soft chuckle, and Dick’s voice, softer than a whisper.

“... maybe.”

X

Jason is 20 and he’s fucking a girl in a by-the-hour motel room. Quick and dirty, just how he likes it.

This, he can do. This is real, and tangible. This is a situation he can control.

He grins his hips slowly, drawing out a toe curling _groan_ from her, hair in his hands, and _pulls_ , fucks into her, harder, deeper.

She’s moaning his name and Jay can’t get over what an ego trip that is, bites her on the shoulder to show his appreciation, before gripping her hips and fucking her into the mattress, fabric muffling her screams.

Yeah. This, this he can do. The wet tang of pussy. Nail marks on his back, a number written in ink on his palm that he’ll wash off on the way back to his bike. This, this is manageable.

No more chasing after ghosts. After wasted desire.

He feels her shudder out her third orgasm, and finishes. Gives her cab fare to get home, smokes nearly half a pack and slides on his motorcycle.

Yeah, he can do this.

 

Hours later, Jason lies alone in his safe house, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m such a fucking mess.” He mutters.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story aka the time I meant to write a short one shot prequel and wound up writing something nearly as long as Lazarus. Whoops. I had a lot of fun writing this.The story is complete, I'm editing it in chunks and uploading it, so everything should be up fairly soon.
> 
> This entire story takes place between chapters 1 and 2 of Lazarus
> 
> PS. I promise this doesn't get as sad as Lazarus. I'm not a total monster.


	2. Shenanifucks

If the summer had a theme, it would have had to have been “Shenanigans”. No. Scratch that. “Shenanifucks”. Jason had long since stop associating the innocent word with the situations he seemed to wind up in with Dick, and now assumed that some deity was working against him.

Like now. Now, he’s on a city bus with Dick in full costume at 3am. He’s thankful for the mostly empty bus. Less thankful for the  hobo clipping his toenails uncomfortably close to them, but thankful, nonetheless. When Dick offered to patrol with him, Jason turned him down. When Dick showed up 30 minutes later at his stake out point in uniform, he realized he didn’t actually have a choice in the matter.

The night went downhill from there. An unfortunate accident in the back room of a strip club and a run in with some of Toyman's more _risque_ toys had left Jay mentally and emotionally drained. And now, through a set of circumstances that Jay couldn’t even really quantify, he’s sitting on a Gotham City bus in full uniform armed to the nines with Dick sitting at his side, looking out the window, pointing out landmarks, like they were on some sort of double bus tour.

“Yes, N. I know that diner has the best burgers.” Jay interrupts, before Dick could get the words out “I’m from Gotham too, remember. Born and raised.”

Dick clicks his tongue at him.

“You know... I never got out of it. Not until...” Jason trails off “B.”

“Really? Not even once?”

Jason gives a shrug.

“Not that I remember. Doubtful.” Dick gives him a sad face “Not all of us can be wandering gypsies.”

Dick mutters something under his breath in a language that Jason didn’t understand, but figured it was probably Romani and that he was probably cursing him out.

“It wasn’t all that great.”

“You’re lying."

“Yeah.” Dick says, looking off into the distance, staring at memories “I am.”

They ride in companionable silence for a few more minutes. Jay knows their stop is coming up soon, and with luck, they can make it back to the safe house without issue.

“O. M. G.”

He spoke too soon.

Jason looks up, and stumbling towards him, mascara running down her face and heels clutched in her hands, is a girl who’s clearly had a few too many, but still somehow managed to look surprisingly hot. The ‘probably got kicked out of at least 3 clubs tonight, took my shoes off 2 hours ago, my tights have holes in them’ look really worked for her.

“Uh...”

“Oh. My. God. It’s you! Wait. It is you, right? Like...” She wags her fingers at them “You look... I dunno... official.”

“Uh...”

“You’re not some weird cosplayers, are you?”

Jay thinks of lying, saying yes in hopes that the girl would leave them in peace but Dick speaks before he can.

“Yeah. It’s us. Do you need help?”

She squees.

Literally squees.

“Oh my god. So heroic.” And then the girl is in Dick’s lap, arm around his shoulders and Dick just relaxes, shifts her weight so they’re both more comfortable like this sort of thing happens all the time.

Hell, it probably does.

“No. But this... this is so cool. I totally have your poster on my wall. My nephew has your figurines!” She says to Jason

“I have figurines?”

“Yeah. They come with their own little pistols and everything.” Dick replies

“Jeanine.” She says, extending her hand. Jason reluctantly shakes it. “And well, I know who you guys are. Especially you.” She says to Jason “You saved my sister once!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She was being mugged. You shot the guy in the kneecaps.”

“Sounds like me.”

Jeanine turns back to Dick, who is taking this whole thing a lot better than Jason would’ve pegged him for.

“And you.” she says “Well... I recognize you mostly from behind.”

Dick gives what Jason knows is a fake sheepish grin, but Jeanine doesn’t see through it. He feels a hot bud of jealously curling in his stomach, watching the easy way she sat on him, touched him.

“Well, our stop is coming up.” Dick says “So..”

“Okay! Well, it’s just...” She shoves her heels into Jay’s lap so she could rummage through her purse, finally emerging with a cell phone “Like, no one is gonna believe me if I tell them that I met you so...”

Jason stares blankly at her. She looks at him, then looks down at the helmet in his lap.

“Wait. You wear a mask under the helmet?”

Jason opens his mouth.

“Long story.” Dick says “Yes, of course we’ll take a picture with you.”

 _‘Speak for yourself’._ Jason wants to say, but agrees, slides in closer so Jeanine can snap a few selfies of them together, before standing up with more grace than Jason would’ve figured she had, considering how much vodka he could smell on her breath, grabbed her shoes back from him and beamed.

“I am gonna stick this all over Pixelgram!” She says “Maybe even Tweet it. It’s gotta go on Face--.”

“Oh look, our stop.” Jay says, as the bus rolls up to a stop that is most definitely not theirs. “Looks like we’ll have to catch you later.”

The bus isn’t even at a full stop before Jay grabs Dick’s hand and pulls him off the bus.

They stand in silence as the bus pulls off, watching Dick wave politely to Jeanine from the bus, whose muffled squees Jason can hear, even outside.

“This isn’t our stop.” Dick says

“No shit.”

“She wasn’t that bad.”

“No, but I--.”

“Hate things like that, yeah I know. You get used to it.”

“... that happens to you often?”

Dick gives a shrug.

“I guess?”

 

Later that night, back at his safe house and _finally_ ~~regretfully~~ away from Dick, Jason downloads Pixelgram to his phone and searches “Nightwing”.

He gets several hundred hits instantaneously.

He spends hours scrolling.

X

 

He should’ve known when Dick showed up at his door with beer and donuts that things would never be this simple with him. That what started as Dick trying to make up the shenanifucks of last night, would turn into the shenanifucks of tonight. Where Jason was now, stark naked in the backyard of a suburban home with nothing to cover himself with but a rubber duckie floaty and his domino, that had, by some sheer miracle, remained intact.

“I hate you.” Jason mutters “I hate you so fucking much.”

“No you don’t.” Dick quips back, picking pieces of shrubbery out of his hair “Besides, it’s not like I knew she was gonna teleport your clothes off. She didn’t teleport mine off. Maybe you should’ve been more polite.”

“She was a witch trying to boil children, Dick.”

“Still, you catch more flies--.”

“I swear to God.”

Dick looks at him, then at the rubber ducky, then back at him. Jason can see Dick trying to fight the laughter, imagined Dick’s eyes were probably watering behind his mask.

“Come on, Donald. Let’s find you some pants.”

‘Find some pants’ turned into ‘break into a Salvation Army and accidentally flash the nun who is working there’. If Jason wasn’t going to Hell already, he’s pretty sure this just put the confirmation in for his first class ticket down.

 

X

 

Dick spends the next few weeks texting him pictures of Donald Duck and duck puns, to phones that Jason doesn’t even know how he got the number to. Jason is laying on the beach in a hammock in the Caribbean, beer in his hand, watching the sunset when his phone vibrates on his chest.   
He expects another text from Roy, asking if they can buy some other random piece of technology he’s sure they don’t actually need but instead it’s:

 

> _Dickface: 1 picture message_

Jason rolls his eyes, and opens it anyway. Of course, it’s a picture of a rubber ducky floaty, with the message ‘thinking of you’. Jason sighs, and texts back:

 

> **Jason:** Daffy.  
>  **Dickface:** ??  
>  **Jason:** Daffy. Donald has white feathers. Daffy is black with a white stripe. Clearly, I’d be Daffy.

The typing icon appears for a few moments, Then disappears, then appears again.

 

> **Dickface:** I’m so proud of you right now.

Jason rolls his eyes, puts the phone back down on his chest. A few minutes later, it vibrates again.

 

> **Dickface:** When are you coming home?

Home. _Home_.

 

> **Jason:** Why, miss me?

Several minutes go by. Jason wonders if Dick has forgotten they were talking before his phone vibrates.

 

> **Dickface:** Always, Littlewing.

Jason forces the lump in his throat down, washes it away with beer.

X

Adderall was one of those things that Jason knew he shouldn’t _really_ make used of, but he’d been working this case for two weeks, rounding almost 3 days with no sleep, and really needed to stay awake. The pill bottle on the table was concerningly empty, he didn’t remember taking that much, but this last stake out might give him the information that he needed.

It was, blissfully cool and Bludhaven. Not the awful smoggy humidity that it normally was. And Dickface was nowhere in sight the past few days, so either he didn’t know Jason was here, didn’t care or didn’t want to see him. Jason convinced himself he was equally okay with all options, perched on a rooftop, and settled down to watch the factory where he suspected the trafficked humans were being stored or delivered.

And waited.

An hour rolls by. A few people come and go, but it’s pretty obviously on the up and up, or, at

the very least, not  related to why he was here. He had a specific job to do, he could leave the other seedy shit to Dick.

Wherever he was.

Then two hours. Jason sees a light click on in one of the rooms on an upper floor, grabs his binoculars and looks. He recognizes one of the faces from a previous stake out in Star City and sees just enough of his mouth to pick up a few phrases “was a delay” “might not-- tonight” “keep it quiet” “maybe wait--.”

Jason tries to get more, debates moving closer to the building when they move towards the door and the light clicks off. He decides patience is a virtue, and settles back in to wait.

 

When Jason wakes, it’s colder, by 10 degrees at least. He’s leaning against a brick chimney that his sleep deprived brain was actually convincing him was comfy, and he realizes that he’s under something.

A blanket.

A Batman blanket.

Before he can process that, pinned to the blanket is a note:

_‘Nothing tonight. Few people came and left, but no shipments. Seems like two days from now. You didn’t miss anything. Threw away your Adderall. - N’_

He is going to kill Dick Grayson.

But, not before he makes it back to his safe house, and curls up under the blanket.

 

X

 

“So... what, do you just carry blankets with you everywhere?”

Dick blinks at him.

“Where would I even... how would that be possible?”

“Time-Lord gauntlets?”

Dick blinks.

“Nevermind.”

“I bought it at the bodega.” Dick says

“... in civvies?”

“No.”

“... in uniform?”

“They thought I was cosplaying.”

Jay opens his mouth to speak, but then thinks better of it, and holds out the folded up blanket to Dick. Dick looks at it for a moment, before shaking his head.

“No,” He says, pushing it back to Jason “You keep it. For the next time you decide to fall asleep on a rooftop.” He makes to leave “Big Brother won’t always be there to stop you from getting a cold.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” Jay mutters after him, watching Dick exit the safe house _‘Big Brother’_ He repeats to himself, forcing himself to absorb the words. _‘Brother’._

 

X

The water of the shower is hot against his skin, almost too hot, and Jay know’s he’ll be flush when he emerges but he doesn’t care. He scrapes his nails against the tile wall in front of him, biting down on his lip to keep quiet, lest he wake Roy in the next room, and strokes himself.

He tries to convince himself that he’s not doing this because of Dick. Not doing it because of this stupid crush he can’t get rid of. Tells himself that he’s just horny, that he struck out tonight, when he knows he didn’t even make anything resembling an effort. Tells himself that he’s just a red blooded man who needs release every now and then.

Still the images his mind conjure inevitably turn. He tries to tell himself it’s a girl, soft and round, not too frail, smooth pale skin but it morphs, inevitably, as it always does, to tawny skin and long firm limbs. To a body that can bend itself in a practical fucking pretzel. He shakes his head and adjusts his grip, remembers the last time he was fucked, stranger from a biker bar in the middle of nowhere, bent over a motel sink - didn’t trust the mattress. Tries to remember the hands, larger than his, body engulfing him, being fucked until his knees gave out, but the hands shrank, and the skin went a few shades lighter and Dick was pressing kisses between his shoulder blades, reaching around and squeezing, biting at his ear.

And then he can’t fight it anymore, groans with no heed to the noise and fucks into his fist, imagines Dick, taking him under the shower spray, wrapping his legs around his waist, pressing Dick’s body to the tile and fucking him until he _screamed_ , until he started speaking Romani in the way he clearly wasn’t aware he did when he was unfocused. He bets Dick would be so good at keeping his balance, bouncing on Jay’s cock. And that when he comes, he’d waste no time, sliding down Jay’s body to his knees..

Jay jolts and comes over his fist, splattering the wall in front of him. His knees threaten to give out, so he gives in, lays on his back on the too small tub, watching his come run down the wall and wash away in the spray.

“I’m a fucking mess.” He says.

 

Later, when he crawls back into bed, Roy mutters something that sounds like:

“Even messes know how to keep quiet at 5am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm holding on to Romani!Dick until I die. Fight me irl.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Referenced child sexual abuse this chapter, if you want to skip it, jump to the phrase "The stealth isn’t new". There is nothing graphic, just implied.

Bruce sends him on a mission to New York. Jay’s first reaction was to tell Bruce to go fuck himself, and that he was not his Robin anymore (which, in a way, he knows he always will be). But Bruce presses and Jay wants to say it took more convincing but in reality all Bruce had to do was mention child sex slaves and he was shoving ammo and cash in a bag and getting on a jet.

Apparently, the operation that Bruce had been working on had spread to Gotham from New York, starting with the mob and the cartel. Some massive trafficking scheme, drugs, guns, and kids apparently.

He surveys the operation for two days, debating how best to approach it so they didn’t all scatter like roaches, or worse, kill the kids. It’s on the third day that Dick shows up at the brownstone he’s renting.

Then, he really does call Bruce to tell him to go fuck himself, before Dick explains that Bruce didn’t send him, that he volunteered aka ignored Bruce’s wishes, and came on his own.

He gets Dick up to speed on the entire situation, surprised when Dick lets him take the lead.

“You’re right,” Dick says once Jason snaps back to reality “I don’t think the direct approach is the way here, even with more firepower. We don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. Going in with sticks swinging is likely to result in a lot of dead bodies.”

“Sticks swinging?”

“Well, I can’t say ‘guns blazing’.”

“Why not?”

“Because guns are your thing.”

Jason looks at him in utter disbelief for several moments, before continuing.

“Anyway. We need to get in there somehow. What do you suggest?”

Dick taps his chin.

“I have an idea.”

 

X

 

It takes them less than a day to establish covers and set up a ‘buy’ with the mob and cartel. Jason and Bruce both confirm that the bulk of the children were being kept in the facility, but didn’t know where yet, so he focuses his attention on getting as much info as he can, dropping bugs for Oracle to get into their network.

They’ve been taken on a tour of the facility, seen a frankly impressive array of weapons and drugs before Dick turns to their ‘tour guide’ and says:

“As fascinating as all this is... we’re more interested in your... other merchandise.”

“Ah.” He replies, leading them down a hallway “Boys? Or girls?”

Dick gives an easy shrug.

“Both. I’m an equal opportunist.”

They go down a few more hallways and emerge into what looks like living quarters. It’s sparse. Maybe two dozen or so cots and mattresses, busted furniture and a TV that was playing nothing but static. Not that anyone seemed to notice.

Jay bites his tongue so hard his mouth starts to fill with blood to swallow the gasp that tried to escape as he looked around the room and saw them. Look like they were from all over, some clearly American and others not. The oldest was maybe twelve.

Jason’s blood begins to boil.

“It doesn’t look like much, but I assure you,” The ‘guide’ was saying “They are all top quality. Healthy. Obedient. Submissive.”

Dick nods along, keeping a straight face that Jay wouldn’t have figured he’d be able to manage.

“Virgins. The lot.” The guide continues. Behind them, a door opens and a nervous looking business man steps in. The children freeze and tense. The look in their eyes bringing back memories that Jay thought he’d burned and buried. “Well. Most of them, anyway. We do have clients to take care of, afterall.”

As if it was a daily routine, and fuck, it probably was, the man walks around Jay, scoops up a little girl from the floor, carrying her towards the bedroom. The girl didn’t make a sound. Didn’t need to. Jason knows her body language all the same and has to fight the urge to go after them, to punch the man in the face until he no longer had a face, to do anything to  _ stop  _ this.

But he doesn’t.

And hears the door lock beside him.

“Your partner is... very quiet.” The guide says, and Dick turns to him, mind spinning five stories just in case

“No. Just doing math.” Jason says “Compiling an inventory. That a problem?”

“Ah. The planning type.” The guide clasps his hand on Jay’s shoulder and Jason wants to break it “I trust you are pleased.”

“Very.” Dick says, letting the man lead them from the room. “Trust me. You’ll be hearing from us soon. Very soon.”

 

X

 

Jay goes catatonic back at the brownstone. Dick doesn’t seem to notice for a while, and when he does, he sits beside Jason, hand on his knee.

Their eyes. Those cold dead eyes and bruised thin skin, shaking hands... Jason couldn’t stop seeing it. Couldn’t stop  _ feeling  _ it.

“Hey, Jaybird.” Dick says, after a while “I know... what we saw... I mean, those kids...”

_ ‘You have no idea.’ _

“I just... need to make sure you’re still with me, that your head is still in the game.”

“Of course it is, Dickie.” He pushes himself to his feet “I’m all here. Just needed a breather.”

“Yeah. But you just... shut do--.”

“I’m fine, Dick.” Jason says, a bit harsher than he intends. Dick flinches an almost imperceptible amount, before standing, clapping his hands together.

“I know what’ll make you feel better.” Dick says. Jason starts to protest that he’s not a child, he doesn’t need cheering up, when Dick opens the case he’d brought with him. Inside, was a mountain of C4. “Wanna sneak into a place and blow up some stuff?”

Jason feels a tear in his eye.

“”You... are the best brother ever.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I’m telling Tim.”

“After Tim. Best after Tim.”

Dick shoots him a look. Jason shrugs.

“He did wonders to my computer.”

Dick rolls his eyes.

“I can pirate at insane speeds now.” He continues

“That’s illegal.”

“Dick, we’re about to load a facility full of C4 and blow it to kingdom come. Do I look like I care about the illegalities of piracy?”

Dick just blinks at him.

“Never mind. Let’s just blow some shit up.”

 

X

 

The stealth isn’t new, it’s a practiced motion, a two step to cowboys, but Jason can’t deny the itch under his skin to punch something. Oracle guides them through the facility a la the security cameras, and Jay buries his emotions and focuses on the mission, as he and Dick plant the C4, take out the guards and smuggle the kids out to the waiting police. Jay can’t help but notice that the girl from the other day is gone. He knows what happened to her, and buries it.

The violence. The violence feels good though. Once Oracle assures them all the kids are safely out and they’ve gotten all of the relevant info, Jay and Dick beat the living hell out of everyone they encounter, and put the C4 to good use.

 

Later, as they watch the facility go up in flames, Jason forces a smile.

“You give the best gifts, Dickie.”

Dick just laughs.

They delay leaving New York. In truth, once it became apparent that Dick was content to stay and work in the city some more, Jason couldn’t bring himself to leave.

It’s fun. Fighting normal crime for a few nights. Muggers and killers and around midnight, an entire biker gang. It’s late, and even New York is dying down and Jay turns to Dick to tell him that they should head back, when Dick interrupts him, slapping his shoulder and shouting “Tag!”, before taking off.

This. Yeah. This he can do.

 

It’s almost unfair. He’s managed to tag Dick once and he’s almost sure Dick let him get a lucky shot. Dick tagged him back less than five minutes later, and Jay has been chasing him ever since.

Not that he’s entirely complaining because - God - Dick is beautiful under the lights, free falling so dangerously that even Jason is concerned. But he always catches himself, catches himself and flings himself to the next obstacle.

And then disappears.

Like, totally disappears.

Jay’s heart stops for a moment, looking towards the ground, half fearing to find Dick there, then chastising himself because Dick would  _ never  _ fall.

He contemplates radioing Dick to admit that he lost, when a solid weight slams into him, he tumbles and there’s a flash of blue and Dick is on top of him.

“Gotcha.” Dick pants

Jay’s brain freezes for a moment because Dick Grayson is on top of him and he can’t count the sheer number of fantasies that are coming true right now, and how tight his cup suddenly becomes.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how this works, N.” Jason replies, thankful that, since abandoning his helmet, a breeze was cooling the sweat on his skin.

A bead of sweat rolls down Dick’s throat and Jason swallows thickly.

_ ‘Big bro.’ _ He forces himself  to think  _ ‘Big bro.’ _

“Yeah? You sure?”

Jason nods.

“Oh well,” Dick says at length “Guess that means I’m ‘it’.”

“So... doesn’t that mean you should let me run?”

Dick stretches out against Jay, rolling his body in a way that Jay was sure he didn’t realize was as sexy as it was, shifting and making himself more comfortable in Jay’s lap, before leaning in close.

“Nah.” He says, tugging gently at the white streak in Jay’s hair “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

The world stops and Jay is convinced he’s about to wake from a dream and Dick is tracing a hand down his face and his heart is just beating so fucking loud, when he realizes Dick is talking.

“--hear that?”

“What?”

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

There is a loud groaning noise.

“That.”

It takes half a second to process what it is.

“Oh shi--.”

The roof collapses.

 

Jason forces himself to take it as a divine sign.

 

On the flight back, Jason forces himself not to ask about the other night. About the way Dick was looking at him,  _ touching  _ him. He buries it and vows to distance himself from Dick. A vow he breaks when Dick falls asleep on his shoulder.

It’s cute, until drool happens.

X

Jay stops a girl from being raped in Qurac. He hadn’t even been out with the intention of patrolling, but here he was in a dark alley, about to apologize to the girl in what he hoped was her language for shooting a man 4 times in the face in front of her, when she looks at him, eyes wide.

_ ‘Oh, here we go again.’ _ Jason says, reaching to spread his jacket and let her see the Bat symbol.

“Red Hood!” she exclaims.

Jason raises an eyebrow, not that she could see it under the helmet.

“... what?”

“You’re the Red Hood!” She shouts

“... how do you...”

She rummages through her purse, and pulls out her cell phone, pressing a few buttons, then turning it to him.

“Pixelgram. You and Nightwing are practically trending topics!”

Jason sighs, but nonetheless, takes the phone from her and scrolls. Of course the most popular one is the selfie with Jeanine on the bus. But most of them are candids, pics snapped while he’s helping someone else, or beating the crap out of someone, or a particularly well shot video of him running from the Gotham police a few months ago.

“I can’t believe I got to meet you. This never happens in Qurac!”

Jason sighs.

“Look, are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. It’s not the first time some scum has attempted to rape me,” she says, disgust evident in her voice, as she spits on her rapist’s corpse “Though, it may be the last.”

“Good.” Jason says, and turns to leave

“It’s just...” The girl continues

No.

“No one is going to believe that I met you.”

No.

“So...” she wiggles her phone a bit

“I don’t really--.” do that sort of thing, is what he tries to get out. But she pouts. Actually pouts. He sighs. “Fine. Just... don’t post them everywhere.”

She pouts a bit more.

“Or post them wherever. Fine.”

He spends 5 minutes taking selfies with her. She then treats him to a kabob, of which there is now a rather unflattering picture of him eating on Pixelgram, with 20 thousand likes.

 

A few days later, Dick texts him.

> **Dickface:** Your kabob picture has more likes than mine.

Jason just ignores him.

X

 

Dick follows him to Dubai, there’s not really any other justification for it, and Dick doesn’t deny it when asked (doesn’t confirm it either, just gives him the “Oh, can’t I want to spend time with my lil bro?” spiel. Followed by puppy eyes. Always the fucking puppy eyes).  Jason tells himself that it’s not about him. That the crime lord that’s set up shop in Bludhaven has spread out globally, which attracted both of their attention. Jason did Dick the honors of taking out the bulk of the issue (as well as said crime lord), and by Jason doing the honors he means he dodged bullets while Kori incinerated everything. 

Now, there’s just the fun parts of clean up. Roy dodged out, claiming he had something he needed to take care of stateside, but Jay knows it was really just to get away from Dick, and Kori follows, leaving Jason without a partner, and Dick being too overeager to be turned down.

“So what,” Jay asks, leaning over a map where they’ve marked down all of the warehouses and hideouts “You’re saying we just hit them all in one night?”

Dick gives him a grin.

“Yeah. Why? Afraid you’re not up for it?”

“I think it might be a bit much for a two man team.”

“Well, if Roy hadn’t ghosted...”

“He had something stateside.”

“Yeah. Right. Of course.” Dick says, and Jay can feel the hurt there before Dick pushes it down “One night. We gotta move fast. We spread this out over a few days, and we run the risk of losing them.”

Jay knew Dick had a point, but he couldn’t help but feel that they were biting off more than they could chew.

“Fine. When?”

Dick just grins.

X

 

Hours later, Jay is standing on a rooftop in uniform, lighting a cigarette. He feels more than hears Dick approach, and can hear the lecture before it actually gets out of Dick’s mouth.

“You know those things will kill you, right?” Dick says from behind him

“Died once. Got better. It wasn’t so bad.”

“Hn.” Dick says, and then there’s warmth pressed to his back, Dick’s cheek against his, and Dick grabbing his hand, bringing the cigarette to his mouth to pull a long drag.

“Then, maybe these things aren’t so bad afterall.” He exhales

Jay goes rigid, his heart beating so loudly he’s sure Dick can hear it. But if he notices, he doesn't say anything.

“You know, for all your talk about my taste in beer. You buy awful cigarettes.”

“Mine frequently get ruined. You know, getting shot, blown up, drowned. Cheaper ones are more cost effective.”

Dick chuckles for a minute.

“Ready to go, Littlewing?”

Jay nods, securing the helmet. They swing off into the night.

 

X

 

Everything goes smoothly (well, as smoothly as can be imagined. Jay’s been slashed at least 4 times) until the last safe house, where a crook get’s lucky with a rocket launcher, and Jay is shoving Dick away from the wall where his body just was and the rocket landed through a window into the bay below that he hoped was deep enough to break their fall, because snapping his spine and slowly drowning did not sound like a good way to end his evening.

The building is exploding behind him, and Dick is falling in front of him, and Jason is struck with the oddest sense of deja vu.

The world goes black when they hit the water.

Jason wakes with Dick in his arms, paddling towards the shore, his body moving on pure instinct. The building is burning and collapsing behind him, and Dick is surprisingly heavy against him, but he manages to get to shore, just as Dick sputters and coughs up the water. They lay on the sand for a few minutes, trying to catch their breath, staring at the fire in strange fascination, before Dick laughs. Genuinely laughs.

“What?” Jason asks

“Nothing.” Dick says, forcing himself to calm “It’s just been a hell of a night”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oblivious Jason Todd might be my new favorite Jason Todd. I'm also in love with the idea that the Bat boys are famous on social media, and have like fan clubs and AngelFire fan pages about them.


	4. Chapter 4

When a heat wave rolls over the east coast, Jason isn't sure why he thought leaving Florida for Gotham was a good idea. Sure, Florida was filled with a concerning number of alligators and was what Jason imagined the Devil's asshole felt like, but when he arrives back in Gotham, it occurs to him that the city, overcrowded and under powered, might not have been a better bet.

Still, if nothing else he's out of Florida, where the air felt like breathing soup and the cockroaches  _ fly _ .  _ 'They fucking  _ **_fly_ ** _ , Timmy.'  _ Jason was ranting during one particular Skype session  _ 'Fucking 'gators and goddamn flying cockroaches.' _

Tim had just laughed, and then laughed even harder when Jason had recounted the time he had tried to shoot one of said flying cockroaches, only to have Roy of all people give him a lesson on safe weapons handling procedures. 

Even Gotham becomes worth it when Jason arrives at a safe house, one of the few left in the city, and turns the AC on full blast, strips to his boxers and collapses underneath a vent.

He's halfway to dreaming, contemplating jerking off to get him the rest of the way there, when his phone charms.

> **Dickface:** _'_ Back in town?'

Jason blinks at the message, still confused as to how exactly Dick got his number – again – before responding.

> **Jason:** What, are you stalking me now, Bigbird?

The typing icon appears on the screen for a few moments. Then disappears. Then appears again, as if Dick was cycling through several messages before settling on:

> **Dickface:** 'Maybe.'

Jason swallows a lump in his throat.

> **Jason:** 'So, what? Are you watching me right now? In the bushes through my windows, stalker style? That's more the Replacement's style, isn't it?'

Again, the typing icon appears for a while, then disappears, then reappears, before:

> **Dickface:** '… Maybe.'

Jason can't help but roll his eyes. Shakespearean, that Dick Grayson.

> **Jason:** 'What do you want Dickface?'

A few minutes go past without reply, Jason rests his phone on his stomach, almost nodding off again when it vibrates.

> _ 'One picture message: Dickface' _   
> 

Jason takes a few steadying breaths, derailing his mind from the 50 things he knows it's  _ not,  _ and opens it.

It's a picture of Dick's bare feet propped up on the coffee table, his large TV with Netflix on the screen, a large pizza and a pack of (actually not shitty) beer. The message attached is a simple: ' _ Company?' _

Jason swallows, the moisture suddenly leaving his mouth. He's reading too much into it. He  _ knows  _ he's reading too much into it. He clamps down on the thoughts and the hope before it gets too far. Dick is straight. He knows Dick is straight. Dick plus pussy equals BFF's five-ever. He repeats this mantra to himself over and over again, and forces himself to type back.

> **Jason:** 'Gonna take a pass on that, BigBird'

A beat.

> **Dickface:** ':(. Doors open, if you change your mind.'

Jason wants to text something witty back. He rucks his boxers down and jerks off instead.

 

X

It's 2am when the power goes.

Jason, ever the light sleeper, kicks awake, and finds himself staring at the ceiling. He closes his eyes, cycles through a few prayers in a few different languages to a few different deities, before eventually sighing and realizing that the power likely wasn't coming back on. The safe house was still cool, having been blasted full of AC the entire day, so Jason rolls back over, and lets himself fall back asleep.

It's 3am when his eyes snap open again. He's sweating and it's gross. He sighs, running a damp hand across his face, mind running through hotels that  _ might  _ have some sort of backup power generator (and kicking himself for not hooking his AC up to the one here), when his phone vibrates.

> **Dickface:** 'Hot?'

Jason can't help himself.

> **Jason:** 'You know it, BigBird.'

Dick doesn't seem to bite.

> **Dickface:** 'Power is down in the city. My place too.'

Jason is – regretfully – sliding back into his clothes and grabbing his duffel. Maybe this was a sign he should get out of Gotham.

> **Dickface:** 'Fun fact. Did you know that the Manor isn't on the city's power grid?'

He did in fact know that.

> _ 'One picture message: Dickface.' _

Jason opens it. Inside, is Dick, in what he recognizes as the Manor's kitchen, shirtless, grinning and holding a carton of Haagen Daaz.

> **Dickface:** 'Just sayin'.'

Jason is on his motorcycle and heading out of the city faster than he would let himself admit. If pressed, he'd blame it on the heat, and not a deep seeded desire to watch a shirtless Dick eat ice cream. It's something straight out of his teenage wet dreams (which were usually followed up by something with a garden hose and Jay fucking Dick within an inch of his life on the Batmobile).

It's late by the time he gets there. He has a key to the manor, knows all of the access codes, and opts to take the front door rather than the cave. Dick must've heard him coming though, which, if Dick heard him coming likely meant that Bruce heard him coming, and was opening the door as he was walking up the steps.

Jay nearly moaned at the blast of cool air coming from inside.

And at the fact that Dick was  _ still  _ shirtless, light pajama pants hung low on his hips. A clear lack of underwear.

_ 'Dick plus pussy equals BFF's five-ever' _ Jason thinks a few times.

Dick looks him over.

“You look like Hell.” He says, his voice low, confirming to Jason that everyone had retired for the evening

“Gee, thanks BigBird. You gonna let me in?”

“What's the magic word?”

“Move before I tell Alfred you're being a bad host?  _ And  _ letting the AC out?”

Dick rolls his eyes, but none the less, steps aside, letting Jason in and securing the door and security alarm behind him.

“Squealer.”

Jason just chuckles, moving through the halls on silent feet. He'd mastered sneaking through the manor as a child, and it was a skill he'd apparently never lost. Dick followed behind, equally silent, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze, before heading off in the direction of the kitchen, where he was – presumably – still stuffing his face.

Being back in his old room felt strange. Strange in how little it changed and strange in how comforting the sameness was. Alfred clearly still kept the linens clean, though some of the objects had a faint layer of dust on them. He ran his fingers over his old bookshelves, first editions and fading paperbacks, most Bruce had given him, some he'd bought himself. Even a few he'd brought with him when Bruce had taken him in.

He could just sleep. That'd be the smart thing to do. Pass out, sleep a few hours, wake and get the fuck outta Gotham. But Jason can still feel Dick's lingering hand on his shoulder, the gentle squeeze. So he strips down to a pair of sweats he'd shoved in his duffel, and heads downstairs.

X

Dick was digging into a second carton when Jason walked into the kitchen, eating straight out of the container with a spoon.

“Did you already eat an entire container of ice cream?” Jason asks. Dick blinks “By yourself?”

Dick gives a shrug.

“What, are you afraid I'm gonna spoil my dinner?”

Jason stares at Dick for a few moments, eyes roaming over his body in what he hoped wasn't either too obvious or too creepy, wondering where exactly he put all of the crap he shoved in his body. Dick, all smooth skin marked with scars and lean muscle.

“I'm afraid you're gonna get a stomach ache.”

Dick chuckles, soft and easy

“Okay,  _ Alfred _ .” He says

Jason grabs a spoon, and sits next to him on one of the stools and digs in. They eat in companionable silence for a few moments.

“You know, I'm surprised you came.” Dick says “Pleased. But surprised.”

“105 degrees will do that to you.” Jason replies

“I mean, you know, cuz Bruce.”

Jason doesn't suppress the tensing in his shoulders quick enough.

“Don't worry.” Dick continues “He's apparently in a 'Vicodin induced sleep', according to Alfred. Got busted up pretty bad.”

Jason raises an eyebrow.

“By what?”

“Al didn't say.” Dick answers around a spoonful of ice cream “Avoided the question, matter of fact. I'm guessing Bruce doesn't want us to know. Working it solo or whatever.”

Jason 'hm's and they fall into companionable silence. Until Jason, thinking back on New York, on how this was the first time he'd seen Dick since then. Remembering the chase, the way Dick's body twisted in the air, lit up by the city lights. And the next night. And the next. The teasing sparing and the way Dick had looked at him in the end, starts:

“Dick--.” He trails off

“Yeah, Littlewing?”

Jason turns to him, locking with those blue blue eyes, so clear and bright and God Jason wants to touch him, to kiss him, to lick the faint remnants of ice cream off of the corners of his lips, wants--.

“Back in New York, were you...”

_ 'Flirting with me? Teasing me? Mocking me?' _

“Yeah?” Dick asks, his hand reaching out to rest on the back of Jay's, gingerly, squeezing.

Jason swallows a lump in his throat.

“... Nothing.” He says, standing, tossing the spoon in the sink “It's late. I should get to bed.”

“Jay--.”

“Don't eat that whole thing by yourself.” Jason says “You'll make yourself sick.”

“You already make me sick.” Dick teases.

Jason sticks his tongue out over his shoulder.

X

 

He tosses in the sheets and kicks awake. It's still dark out, probably 5am by his estimation, and despite the cool quiet comfort of the Manor, he suddenly couldn't fall asleep.

He feels the skin on the back of his hand, tracing along where Dick had squeezed, re-imagining the heat, the softness of his skin. Thinks back to New York, to the cool night air, and the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The solid weight of Dick on top of him as he let him tackle him to the ground, the smell of him, even under his costume.

Before he realizes it, he's climbing out of bed, and walking the few hundred meters to Dick's room, standing outside the door, hand raised to knock, before freezing. This is stupid. This is crazy.  _ 'He's your brother. He's straight. He's your big brother. He's just trying to bond with you. Family style. _ '

Jay runs his fingers through his hair, worrying at the white streak, and paces a bit in front of his door, before forcing himself to turn around and head back to his room.

_ 'You're being crazy. Just get your things and go before you do something stupid.' _

Like walk back to Dick's door. Which is exactly what he does. He gets as far as putting his hand on the knob before he stops.

_ 'What are you gonna do, watch him sleep?' _

When Jay realizes he's not  _ actually  _ all that opposed to the idea, he forces himself to walk away again. This time, he manages to get back into his room and close the door behind him, sliding his body down against it, willing himself to leave it closed. Forcing himself to slide back into bed, smashing a pillow over his head.

Jason figures he must've nodded off at some point, because when he wakes the sun is up, and he can hear the faint chatter of people moving through the house. Alfred must be making breakfast by now. Bruce is probably awake, probably knows he's here and is waiting for him with one lecture or another that he decides he's not in the mood to hear, and creeps out as silently as he came.


	5. New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka "Oblivious!Jay continues to be aggressively oblivious".

It's a several weeks and a mission in space before he hears from Dick again. He's back in New York. He's found a few lingering traces of the mob and cartel, and asks Jason if he wants in on taking them down. Jason wants to point out that he's pretty sure there are other super-heroes dedicated to New York that he could pass this off on, and that he's not  _ actually  _ one of the Bat Clan these days, but what actually comes out is:

“Where should I meet you?”

Dick apparently doesn't know the meaning of 'subtle', and when he comes to town he comes to town. Unlike the last time, where they'd relegated to an old brownstone from years back, Dick had actually come to New York as Dick Grayson-Wayne, and stayed in accommodations as such. The building put Jason a bit on unease, until he saw the suite, and realized that in the few days Dick had been there, he'd managed to destroy it just like his apartment back home.

Jason is setting down his suitcase when he steps in a soggy bowl of Crocky Crunch.

“... seriously, Dick?”

Dick shrugs.

“You’ve been here less than a week.”

Dick shrugs again.

“Pretty sure there’s a cleaning service here.”

Dick shrugs one more time, then simply points to the wall, where he has mapped out the operations, complete with pictures and articles as well hung several weapons, and to the table he’d turned into a work bench to repair his gear, where a Nightwing suit currently lay.

“... point.”

Dick laughs an easy laugh, stretching, his shirt riding up a bit as he does so and Jason can see the gut of his hip and licks his lips despite himself. Dick doesn’t seem to notice.

“What do you want for dinner. I’ve had pizza like every night but--.”

“Why’d you call me?” Jason asks “I mean... you could’ve easily handled this yourself.”

“ Probably.”

“So why am I here? Why not Tim or Damian or Cass.”

Dick shrugs, taking a drink of his soda.

“I dunno. Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you, Jaybird.”

Jay swallows thickly.

“I’m gonna shower.” Dick tosses over his shoulder, walking away

Jay weighs how fast he can jerk off to the thought of Dick in the shower, but decides against it.

X

They don’t talk. They don’t need to. When the time comes, they meet on the rooftop and as Jason is reaching for his grappling gun, Dick flings himself off the high rise, and Jason can’t help but stop and watch. In that moment, and in every other, he understood why Dick’s mother called him Robin. 

When he was younger, he had a Flying Grayson poster on his wall. Didn’t even know who Dick was at the time, but his Mom brought it home one day because ‘the colors were nice’ and he tacked it up on the wall where it remained surrounded by faded band posters and CD covers until he left. Never told anyone that.

It’s easy to fall into step with Dick, side by side, back to back, whatever. He was always aware of his presence in a room, even in the midst of battle. He spent so many years chasing his shadow that in a way they melded. It’s a cheesy thought, and he knows it, but as he dodges a fist and flips a guy over his shoulder, knowing Dick will be there for the takedown, he can’t deny it feels good. The ebb and flow. Getting to watch Dick in action didn’t hurt either. Jason had no qualms about being able to take care of himself, but watching Dick it always seemed like there was something more to learn, always a new way to shatter someone’s femur with  _ grace _ .

In the end, they watch the cops haul away the remnants of the mob and cartel from a rooftop a block away. Dick presses in close. Jason tenses.

“I think,” Dick murmurs in his ear “This calls for a celebration.”

X

Dick was drunk. No doubt about it. It was... almost cute. Granted, Jason was two shades into buzzed himself, but Dick was drunk. Babbling and spilling his drink and giggling drunk and Jason couldn't stop staring at him. He knew Dick was coherent enough to know what was going on. Wasn't in any real danger of anything other than a hangover in the morning, and had been nursing the same beer for the better part of an hour so he was content to listen to Dick try and talk over the booming music, leaning across the table to get in more of an ear range, grasping at his hand when he tried to make a point, or to pull more information out of Jay. Asking more about Roy and Kori than he'd normally, asking about his adventures with the Outlaws, about his plans for the future.

Dick leans back and laughs an easy laugh, scratching a hand against his stomach, shirt riding up and Jason swallows thickly, forcing his eyes away, anywhere, when they land on the dance floor and he feels an involuntary shudder run through him. Of all of his talents dancing was not one of them. Still, staring at them was better than Dick noticing Jason staring at him.

When he turns back to Dick, a minute or so later, Dick is smiling at him, in that smug ‘You’re gonna go along with whatever I say next’ Dick Grayson way. 

He knows he’s going to hate himself, but he asks.

“…what?”

Dick slides forward across the table, eyes locked on Jay, before grasping his wrist.

“Let’s dance.”

“What?!”

“Come on.” Dick says, tugging gently

“No.”

“It’ll be fun~.” He singsongs.

“No. It absolutely won’t be.”

“Come on.” Dick says, standing, hand still on Jay’s wrist

“No--.”

“Please?”

“You’re drunk.”

“So?” Dick breathes, leaning close, too close

The next complaint dies on Jay’s lips as he breathes in, smelling the sweet smell of whatever girly drinks Dick has been sucking down all night, the softness of his cologne, the smell of what Jason swears is his shampoo.

“Come on,” Dick says again, tugging him to his feet “Don’t be such a baby.”

He wants to argue that he’s  _ not  _ a baby, that he’s a grown man and most grown men don’t dance, but Dick is swinging him towards a group of women who are grasping him and Jay just let’s them take it from there. He loses track of Dick after a while, busy amusing himself by flirting even though he knows he won’t let anything come of it. When it finally occurs to him to look for Dick, maybe get the actual hell out of this bar, he finds Dick off to the corner of the dance floor, a body pressed to his and Jay’s breath catches in his throat. Because it’s  _ definitely  _ not a female body.

Dick is leaned in intently, murmuring something in the man’s ear, his head angled at just the right way to keep his lips from being read, a habit that Jay was sure Dick didn’t even realize he was doing. Jay swallowed, sure that Dick was probably telling the guy off in his overly polite Dick Grayson way, because Dick plus pussy equals BFF’s five-ever, but the way his touches lingered, the slow easy sway, Jay now wasn’t so sure.

He’s seen enough. It’s stupid to stand here and get his heart broken over his fucking probably totally  _ absolutely  _ straight big brother so he turns to leave the dance floor, and gets about halfway there when there’s an iron grip on his arm and if he wasn’t so used to the presence behind him it’d likely be getting thrown across the room on sheer instinct right now.

He lets Dick turn him to face him, lets him step in close.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dick says. Jay can smell something stronger on his breath. Dick had obviously had another drink or two, probably shots with what’s-his-face.

“I saw you making friends.” Jay says, gesturing over to where Dick once stood

Dick gives a shrug, and pulls Jay in close, pressing his body to his and Jay swallows, fights against the involuntary reaction his body is having, the sudden tightness of his chest and in his pants, as Dick wraps his arms around his shoulders swaying with him.

“Why would I? I’ve got my dance partner right here,” He grins, pressing even closer. Jay can feel the firmness of his body, smell the sweat on his skin

“You’re drunk.” Jay says again

Dick gives a dismissive shrug.

“So?” He asks, again, and pulls Jay in and allows himself to lose himself in the alcohol buzz he’s been fighting, the awful music and lights, pressed tight against Dick who moved better than Jay felt it fair, but that might be the booze and the erection that was getting harder and harder to remain under control.

Dick leans up, pressing his forehead against Jay’s taking in a slow breath, his eyes meeting his and all of the moisture leaves Jay’s mouth.

“It... it wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Dick murmurs, and Jay wants to press, to ask  _ ‘What, what wouldn’t be so bad? What is  _ **_this_ ** _?’ _ but doesn’t need Dick to know how much he’s reading into what is probably nothing more than Dick being an over affectionate drunk

“Let’s...” Jay tries, swallowing, licking his lips and willing there to be moisture on them “Let’s get back to the hotel.” He says, forcing himself apart from Dick, his body mourning the loss even in the heat of the dance floor.

“Yeah.” He hears Dick agree from behind him “Let’s.”

X

They take the subway back, something about the “authentic New York experience”. Jay wants to comment that they’ve both  _ lived  _ in the city and aren’t exactly Minnasotian tourists at this point, but humors Dick none the less and crowd together on the train on the way back to the hotel.

Jay blames the closeness in proximity on the crowd, on it being a Saturday night and flongs of New Yorkers moving about the city, and justifies the arm around Dick’s waist as a means of steadying him, clingy drunk that he was, as the train jerked around the tracks.

But when they shift and Dick presses ever closer to him, stretching up to press his face in close, Jay’s mind swims to find an answer.

“Wouldn’t... would it?” Dick asks, eyes meeting his, and for an impossibly long moment Jay stares, realizes that no one knows who they are here. That they’re superheroes, or brothers, or former enemies. They’re just two people standing together on a subway, enjoying each other’s closeness. To the an outsider, they looked like lovers.

_ ‘And ain’t that just...’ _

But the thought gets lost as the train jerks hard and the lights flicker out for a moment, and Dick is pressed to him, and Jay  _ swears  _ he can feel Dick’s cock through his pants, and before he can even process that tidbit of information and catalog it for things he  _ totally  _ shouldn’t masturbate to Dick’s lips are on his. Dick’s lips are on his, hot and insistent and his tongue is sliding against Jay’s mouth and Jay can’t help but kiss back. Dick Grayson is kissing him. On a subway in the deep of New York, in the heat and dark. Jay pulls him closer, tightens his grip on Dick’s waist, and deepens the kiss, feels Dick shudder against him, hands reaching up to thread in his hair before the train jerks again, pulling them apart and the lights flicker back on and Jay turns away, fights the urge to lean back in and kiss him and feels Dick do the same, rest his head against his shoulder and breathe steady.

X

They make it back to the hotel in silence. It’s late, for most people, and Jay isn’t even actually tired but he still strips and climbs into his bed, and tries to bury himself in his pillows. Dick goes to shower, and Jay tries to shut out the mental image of Dick under the spray, to forget the feeling of Dick’s skin pressed against his, the taste of his mouth.

And then, almost thankfully, it turns into trying to block out the sound of Dick drunkenly singing pop songs in the shower, because it doesn’t at all surprise him that that is a thing that Dick does.

He is actually almost relaxed enough to sleep by the time Dick emerges on unsteady (well, unsteady for his usual grace) feet and fusses about the room for a few moments before walking to what Jay assumes will be Dick’s bed.

Except he doesn’t.

He walks to Jay’s bed, and climbs right in.

Jay’s eyes go wide, but he doesn’t say anything for a few long moments, listening to Dick’s breath even out.

“... Dickie.”

“Hn?”

“You’re in my bed.”

Silence.

“Hm.”

Soft snoring.

Jay sighs, curls in on himself, and forces himself to sleep.

X

In the morning, there is coffee and shitty diner food, and Dick nursing the hangover that he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t have. They sit on opposite sides of the booth, Dick blathers on about something or other, and Jay focuses on his food, only to have Dick start eating it without a second thought.

Jay sighs, shoving the plate away from him and watching Dick devour it with a strange fascination.

“Dick...” He begins

“Hn?” Dick asks around a mouthful of eggs

“About... about last night--.”  _ ‘What was that? What wouldn’t be so awful? Why were you...’ _

Jay swallows, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.  _ ‘He was drunk, Jay. He was just being Dick and he was drunk. Dick plus pussy...’ _

“What about it?” Dick asks, staring straight into his eyes, expression unreadable

_ ‘Why did you kiss me?’ _

“Do you always order such sparkle vagina drinks?” is what comes out instead

Dick blinks at him for a second, blank faced, before slipping on what Jay knows is a mask, but pretends it’s not, and grinning at him.

“It’s not my fault that I don’t like my booze to taste like I’m being punished.”

“Hey, whiskey has its values.”

“You know what else has values? Fruit punch vodka.”

“Ugh. Is that what that was? I could”  **_taste_ ** it on you “smell it on you a mile away.”

“Smells like tasty.”

“Smells like a sorority girl.”

Dick just laughs, before growing serious again.

“Is that what you really wanted to--.”

“We should get going.” Jason says “We’re gonna miss the jet back.”

“It’s Bruce’s private jet.” Dick says “It’ll wait.”

But Jay slides out of the booth anyway, tossing too much cash on the table and walking out the diner. Dick follows behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Jason is many things, a good dancer is not one of them.
> 
> One more chapter to go!


	6. Chapter 6

Jason is on the west coast with Roy working a case when the questions finally start. He tries to bury himself in the mission, focus on the objective and get the fuck out of San Francisco while he still retains some sense of sanity...

“Okay, you just kicked a dude off a rooftop.” Roy says as they fly back to what’s currently serving as their base

“He fell into his pool. He’s fine.”

“He’s probably paralyzed.”

“Nah. Legs are broken, spine should be okay.”

“You punched a hole in the wall earlier.”

“I was training.”

“In the  _ steel _ wall.”

“I was focused?”

Roy glares at him. Jason lets out a sigh and lights up a cigarette.

“Is this about Dick?”

Jason goes ridged. 

“You’ve been edgy since you got back from New York. You’ve been edgy for a while, actually.” Roy continues “I thought it might’ve been venom again but..”

“...Roy. I’m not--.”

“I know. But... is it Dick?”

Jay focuses back on his cigarette, and makes a point of not answering.

“Because, it’s okay if it is. I mean, I understand Dick Grayson hatred about as much as anyone can.”

_ ‘That’s not the problem.’  _ Jason thinks  _ ‘It’s pretty much the exact opposite.’ _

“I mean, working with him  _ and  _ his old ex-buddies has gotta be tiresome, right? What’d he do?”

_ ‘Kiss me. Be so beautiful it  _ **_hurts_ ** _.’ _

“Nothing, Roy. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

“Jaybird--.”

“Roy.  _ Please. _ Just drop it.”

Roy looks at him for a long while. Jay pointedly doesn’t look, but can feel Roy’s worried stare.

“Whatever you say, Jaybird.”

X

Jay is 21 and in an dirty alley  in San Francisco, head tilted back against a brick wall, biting his lips to swallow moans, hands threaded through soft black hair, white hot suction being applied to his dick.

As much as he’d grown to hate the city, he can’t deny it had it’s perks, namely the plethora of gay bars and the fact that apparently a dude blowing another dude in an alley was such commonplace that the old lady who’d caught them while taking out her garbage, had simply shrugged, opened the dumpster, tossed in her trash, and hobbled back inside, like she’d seen a stray cat or a plastic bag.

The guy isn’t even that  _ good  _ but Jay comes embarrassingly quick. He blames it on not having any company other than his hand in a concerningly long period of time, and shudders through his orgasm.

He zips up, and opens his eyes to a pair of blue ones staring back at him.

“Dave.” He says

“What?”

“Dave. My name is Dave. You kept calling me ‘Dick’.”

Jay lets out a sigh.

“Yeah, whatever.” He sighs, moving away from the wall

Dave moves to move out of the alley.

“It’s fine. You wanna grab a drink--.”

But Jason is already gone.

X

Jason couldn’t tell you exactly what possessed him to come, probably a combination of Tim’s baiting and Alfred’s subtle yet crushing guilt tripping but he now sat in the Wayne Manor TV room (Jesus who actually has a TV room?) with a bowl of popcorn on his lap, Steph wrapped in a blanket next to him, Tim texting someone who  _ totally  _ isn’t Kon on the floor, Bruce in his Father's chair and Dick spread out on the other couch with Damian. Cass lurks in the background near Alfred, though Jason is just convinced she’s doing it so she can slip out before everyone else and mooch the training room. This is confirmed, when, halfway through the movie, he turns to find her gone.

Damian drops about a forth of a the way into the second movie (though later he’ll argue both that he was just resting his eyes, and then pretending to be asleep, practicing some new technique), and Bruce moves to take him upstairs.

He’s almost positive Tim’s been asleep since the lights went out, he’s pretty sure the kid has been up for at least 45 hours, and Steph passes out on his shoulder, muttering something about ‘firm sexy boys’, something which he makes a mental note to  _ never  _ unpack.

Dick takes Steph to bed, who may or may not be faking just to get carried by Dick (Jason couldn’t blame her either way) and Jason takes Tim, who’s so dead to the world it’s both adorable and frankly extremely concerning. Jason restrains himself, only draws one dick on his face, and even does it in washable marker.

When he finally makes it back to the TV room to grab his things, the manor is dark, though the movie is still playing on mute. He figures everyone has gone to sleep and that he’ll have to let himself out, when he spots Dick sitting in his spot on the edge of the couch, fidgeting with his jacket.

He opens his mouth to say goodbye, but Dick beats him to it.

“It’s just getting to the good part.” Dick says, patting the spot next to him, shifting the now cold popcorn bowl in his lap. “Come here, Littlewing.”

And Jason wants to deny him, knows he probably should, since this is the first time they’ve seen each other since New York and neither one is drunk. But Dick is making that face, the face that he probably  _ knows  _ Jay can’t resist, and Jay caves, and plops down next to Dick, who cozies up next to him.

“What are we even watching?” Jason asks

Dick shrugs.

“I dunno.”

“Then how can you know it’s getting to the good part?”

“Because it’s apparently halfway through. That’s always when the good part comes.”

Jason rolls his eyes, pops a few kernels in his mouth, and catches Dick doing the same, sucking the butter and salt off of his fingers. He stares for longer than he should, and swallows thickly. Dick turns to him, catching him, and Jason quickly averts his eyes.

The clock ticks.

“You know...” Dick says “In New York.”

Jason’s heart stops.

“I... I wasn’t that... I knew what I was...” He sighs, staring down at the popcorn bowl for a long moment, before bringing his eyes up to Jay’s “I wanted to kiss you. Have for... a long time.”

And this is the part where Jason wakes up. Where he’s back in his safe house or on the ship or in some over priced hotel and Roy has gotten hot wing sauce on the sheets again and fuck he’s gonna have to pay for this... but he doesn’t. He blinks a few times, waiting for the inevitable rush that comes with waking up from a shocking dream. Waits. And waits.

“It wouldn’t be so bad... would it?”

And dream or no, Jason can’t take it. He knocks the popcorn bowl out of Dick’s lap and pounces, pressing him into the couch, pressing his lips to his, his body to his til there was no room left between them. He’s achingly hard already, rolling his hips a few times against Dick, who eagerly meets him, and Jay dives back in to capture his mouth, pouring everything he can into the kiss, the first one or maybe the last one he isn’t sure, but after a moment, he has to pull back and laugh.

“Cherry.” He mutters

“What?”

“Cherry. Your... nevermind.” He leans in to kiss the thought off of Dick’s face, feels Dick’s body go pliant underneath him, feel his body  _ tremble _ .

And the couch, the couch is too small so Jay gracelessly rolls them off the couch to the floor, knocking his head and funny bone on the way but he’s too caught up to care, Dick is the same, pushing at Jay’s clothes, marking up Jay’s neck, but he hesitates for a second, when he reaches Jay’s belt buckle.

Jay growls, thrusting up into Dick’s hands and he gets the message loud and clear, get’s his pants open and his hand around his cock and strokes, firm and slow.

Jay almost comes right there. But no, not like this. If this was going to be the first time or the last time, he wanted... needed  _ more. _

Dick chokes on a moan when Jay slides his t-shirt up, maps a slow path from his neck to his nipples to his navel, biting up bruises along the way. Worshiping his body like he has the universe inside him. And as far as Jason is concerned, he does. Right now, in this instant, the world begins and ends with Dick Grayson. He slips Dick’s pants and underwear down, just enough, and gets his mouth around his cock.

Dick does moan at that, and Jay is thankful that the bedrooms aren’t in hearing range of the TV room, says a silent prayer to whatever deity is listening to thank them for sending Bruce to bed early that night.

Jay moans around Dick, who shudders. Dick tastes like heaven, is a solid warm weight on his tongue, in his  _ throat _ , is more than everything he’d fantasized about. And right about now, for sure, is when he’d be waking up. Except he’s not, Dick is shuddering, is tensing and then pushing him away and pulling him up, gripping his ass and rubbing their cocks together, both shuddering, pressing their heads into each other’s shoulders to silence the noise.

Jay gets Dick’s fingers in his mouth, sucks off the butter and salt, and rocks against him, pressing hands and teeth and lips and tongue to every surface he can reach, until Dick breathes out his name in a sound that’ll be forever etched across his memory, and comes against him, spilling against his hip and stomach and shirt. Jay follows suit moments later, clutching Dick to him.

Mindful of his weight, he rolls off of Dick, and they lay side by side, catching their breath.

_ ‘First time... or the last time.’ _ Jay thinks, his thought interrupted as Dick asks:

“Would it?”

He breathes out a chuckle.

“No, Dickie. I guess it wouldn’t be.”

A few heart beats go by, and Dick sits up, looks at the mess of popcorn on the floor, of their cum intermingled between their bodies.

“Man, we are a mess.” He says

Jay’s heart warms.

“Yeah,” He agrees “We are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot messes for life


End file.
